Haven't Had Enough
by LennonxLime
Summary: Mackenzie Caldwell was cold, sarcastic, and too outspoken for her own good. After giving up the life she once knew in Providence, Rohde Island to move to Beacon Hills, California with her father, she realized nothing would ever go back to the normality she was used to. Derek/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_I do not own Teen Wolf, nor the characters on the show. _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please, Review/Favourite/Alert! It honestly inspires me to write more and faster. _

* * *

Was it ever easy to start over; to up-root the life you know so well and just continue as if nothing changed? Whoever answered in the affirmative was either lying, or never had to face the experience. Never in my life did I think I would have to go through this. It wasn't fair.

But life never was.

My parents broke the news to me carefully. I always was a ticking time bomb of emotion, just waiting to explode. At first, they were quiet. They just stared, unaware of how to speak. My mother opened her mouth first. "We have to tell her eventually..."

My father sighed. "It can wait a few days."

This just made me mad. "Spit out," I said with a roll of my eyes and a harsh tone in my voice. "I'm a big girl. I'm sure I can handle it."

They shared a quick look before my mother spoke again. "We're getting a divorce."

I couldn't contain the laughter that erupted from my lips. To me, at the moment, it was a joke. My parents never fought, never argued, nor did they disagree on anything. There was no way that they would be separating. "Okay, that was funny," I said, calming down. "Now really, what did you have to tell me?"

My parents' faces were filled with anything but amusement. So I started to worry. When I worried, I overthought everything. "Mackenzie…" That was my second clue. The use of my full name always was bad.

"No. You're lying. If this is because I snuck out the other night and this is your sick, twisted way of punish—"

"You snuck out the other night?" Busted.

"Byron, that's not the matter we need to discuss."  
"But Lind—all right. Fine."

"Sweetheart, this is very serious. We're not joking."

I didn't understand.

My father continued, crushing me further. "Ken…you have to choose."

No matter my choice, my life would be ruined. My mother was moving to Portland to be closer to my grandfather, and my father was moving to a town in California. She had no idea why. A job offer maybe, or perhaps he just didn't want to stay in the place where he met my mother. The town wasn't _that_ large. I knew it held a lot of memories.

You would think that choosing between your parents would be hard. Hell, every time I thought about it in the past I had no fucking clue what I would do. However, being placed in the position made things pretty clear. It only made sense for me to go with my father. It took all of thirty seconds for that to be clear.

"I'm going with Dad." As soon as I spoke, I swore I could hear the sound of my mother's heart shatter. I didn't even feel guilty.

* * *

There were two immediate things I hated about moving. The first, my dad sold my car. Yes, he promised to get me a new one when we got to California, and yes, I really didn't want to drive it across the country by myself, but that car was like my child. The black leather interior was like my home. I would miss it.

The second thing, we had to drive. Don't get me wrong; I love road trips just as much as the next girl, but being stuck in a car, alone, for fifty hours with your father was not the best way to go about a road trip. "We'll bond," he said. Yeah. Bullshit. Whenever I wasn't sleeping or eating, he was talking on his headset to one of his new colleagues. I read a lot, drove a bit, and probably gained ten pounds. One thing I never did in those fifty hours, was actually have a real conversation with my father. Maybe it was because I was mad at him, or maybe we just had nothing to say. Either way, we did not bond.

"Why aren't you texting any of your friends?" he asked after ending his twentieth phone call.

At first I couldn't hear him. I pulled out my earbud, and he repeated himself. "Oh, well…I have nothing to say." I shrugged, and that was all. Truth be told, the _friends _I had in Providence weren't exactly the type of friends that you text solely for the purpose of texting. Only one of the people close to me was actually worth that kind of time, and we agreed before I left to sever all ties except for facebook. It would be easier that way. For the both of us.

Leaving the life I knew wasn't easy. I knew what I was doing with myself in Rohde Island. I had a large group of acquaintances, not really people I would call friends, but I knew people, I had plans almost every weekend, I could get good grades, then I'd go to Brown like my parents had. Moving to Beacon Hills, California meant I knew absolutely no one. I wouldn't know where to go or what to do. I'd still get good grades, but Brown has been ruined for me. If I go to that school, everywhere I looked I would be reminded of the fact that my parents' marriage failed. I needed a new plan. I hated new plans.

After the long car ride, and a few stops at various motels, my father and I arrived at our new house. It seemed as if we weren't the only new arrivals to the neighborhood, either. A few houses down, another family was moving in. It made me feel better about the situation. At least I knew we weren't going to be the only outcasts. One thing that was absolutely terrible about small towns was the fact that everyone knew pretty much everyone. When you were new, people were well aware. Often times, they didn't let you forget it. I would know. Usually, I was one of those people.

Fuck karma.

The row of newly developed homes seemed almost deserted. The ploy to get new people to join the obviously _amazing _community of Beacon Hills seemed to have failed. Half of the buildings were still under construction and only a quarter of the completed homes had people actually residing inside. It definitely instilled confidence in my father's decision to move here. But he told me to stay positive. It was like he didn't know me at all.

Having a negative outlook on life was how I got through the day. If you're just optimistic all the goddamn time, one, you got really annoying, two you set yourself up for disappointment. By remaining negative, I have no expectations for anything to go well; therefore if things went sour, I was cool with it. It was an easy philosophy to follow, and it worked. Sure, more often than not people wanted to keep their distance, but that really was an added bonus.

* * *

My father told me once that he could work anywhere in the world he wanted. I really think that meant he _had _to work everywhere. After eighteen years of living, I still was unsure as to what he actually did, but apparently it required him to travel far and wide to get it done. After an hour, only an hour, of being in that big, new house he bought, he informed me that in a few days time, he'd be gone. For a week. I was used to the fact that my father went on business trips by now, but I would have thought we'd at least get _some _time to settle in before he had to leave again. I didn't find it particularly fair, to him or to me.

"C'mon, Ken. You'll be able to handle it." I rolled my eyes. That wasn't the problem.

We were sitting on the floor of what would become our living room, eating pizza. I knew that was all I was going to be eating for the next little while.

"We _just _got here." My father just looked at me and shrugged. That was how most of our conversations ended.

"Why don't you go up to your room and unpack a bit, yeah?" I did what he said. I just couldn't sit there any longer. I'd lash out and it was our first day here. I wanted to start on at least semi-good terms with my father.

The walls of the room that was to become my bedroom were dull beige, kept neutral by the contractors to fit any need a prospective buyer might have had. The floors were wood and slippery, and the room did not feel like home. Movers had brought up all the boxes labeled "Ken" and stacked them up against the wall opposite the window. Besides those, and a mattress lying on the floor, the room was empty. I didn't know where to begin.

The first box I picked up was the smallest one. I knew exactly what was inside, and knew I probably should have saved it for last. Tearing off the tape, I opened the flaps and took out the various photo albums and loose pictures. This box held my life. It held my memories. I didn't look through any of them; I just stared at the one image on top for a moment, and moved on. It was too hard.

I couldn't really unpack much; just move some things around, organize the various boxes and hang up a few of my clothes. The furniture my father ordered had yet to arrive. I was sort of suck in a rut of moving things from one box to another. I was just keeping busy so I wouldn't look through my past. I couldn't handle it. Not then. Not yet.

After pacing around for over an hour, I gave up. I had nothing to do, so I would explore. There was no harm in getting to know my way around the town, right? I made my way down the stairs, grabbed a jacket, and slipped on my shoes. Just as I was about to pick up the keys to my dad's car…

"Where do you think you're going?"

I took in a deep breath, lifted the keys, and shook them. "I'm going for a drive." I really didn't want him to stop me. I needed some alone time.

The look my father gave me was one of contemplation. "It's late, Ken," he started, pressing his lips in a straight line. "You start school tomorrow."

I began tapping my foot. I knew all of this. All he was doing was stating the obvious. It just made me want to leave more. "Dad, I know. I won't be out long. I just need some air." I placed a small pout on my lips and a hint of a whine in my voice. That might have been enough to convince him.

"Fine. But when you get back, we are going to talk about you sneaking out last week." Shit…I thought he forgot about that. Either way, I got what I wanted.

I didn't know where I was going, or exactly what I wanted to accomplish on this impromptu drive, but I couldn't stand being in that house any longer. It was too big, too empty, and at least one person short. The foreign roads of Beacon Hills felt more like home. Then again, that could have been because of the ridiculously long ride down here. It was surreal to be on the opposite side of the country. The eerie feeling that crept over me made me uncomfortable. Everything was so different, but it was still so much of the same.

All I wanted was to go home. But I didn't have a home anymore. I had to make due with what was given to me. I always was bad dealing with difficult situations. My guidance councilor once told me I was crying out for help with my solutions. Apparently drinking and spending late nights out with friends wasn't healthy. It was as if she had never met a teenager before. Sure, there were those who spent their teens studying and focusing on their future, but I wanted to enjoy my life. Sometimes that meant bending a few laws. It wasn't as if I was watching my life spiral down a drain.

I took a turn down a path. Trees lined the road and blocked out any view I once had of the moon. It was then I was pulled from my thoughts. Stupid teenager in a red hoodie ran into the middle of the lane. "Stupid fucking kid!" I exclaimed hitting my steering wheel. I swerved and avoided him, but I took it as a sign. No more driving while emotionally impaired. It was time to return to the house.

Who knows? Maybe one day, I'll be able to call it home. But that thought was a little _too _hopeful for my tastes.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_I do not own Teen Wolf, nor the characters on the show._

_I would like to thank all of you who took the time to review/favourite/alert this story! It means so much._

_In response to some of the reviews:_

_Lycan Lover 411 ~ Yes indeed, she did nearly run over Scott! Since in the pilot, it actually happens, I figured it would be a nice little touch to add to the chapter._

_xohwowlovelyx ~ I'm so glad you're curious! There are plenty of reasons, I can assure you. As for her little flaws and how relatable, I'm glad you think that way, as well. Personally, I really dislike the perfect OC characters, and I believe that flaws add to the dimensionality of a character. _

_Another note: I've been debating on changing this story from first person to third person, but I'm not sure. The problem that I've been having is that with certain things I find that I can't be as descriptive as I would like. For example, in this chapter there were some things I couldn't describe in detail without Ken sounding a bit creepy…Then again, I do like the aspect of first person where I can really develop her character with ease. I would prefer to figure this out sooner rather than later, because it would be easy to change two or three chapters from first to third person rather than ten. Do you, my readers, have any preference one way or another? Let me know. It will help me immensely. _

_I apologize for the short chapter. I was going to extend it, but where I ended seemed like the best way to stop._

* * *

By the time I finally returned, most of the lights in the house were turned off. The lone source of illumination was coming from the porch light my dad must have left on for me before he turned in for the night. I knew he would forget about "the talk." He always did. My father was always all talk. He never actually acted on anything he said he would. It made me push him. I wanted to see how far I could go without punishment or consequences. So far, I haven't found his breaking point. Sometimes it just made me think he didn't care. Sure, it hurt, but in the short _and _long run it was better for me. I had freedom and independence. It would make me "grow" as an individual or something. Now, _that _was just some reiterated crap my mother quoted from a parenting book. Personally, if parents just paid more attention to their kids and actually give them consequences rather than shrug them off like they mean nothing, they wouldn't rebel in the first place.

I've been to one to many therapists for my liking…

Regardless, I know my parents care about me, blah, blah, blah. I just wish they would show it better.

Entering the house, it was confirmed that my father had indeed gone to bed. The pizza box from earlier was in the trash (which I quickly moved to the recycling) and the sounds of my dad snoring were very, very audible. I debated going back out. Not for a drive this time, but for a run. Whenever I didn't want to do something, I would run. It cleared my head and simplified almost everything. The something, in this case, that I didn't want to do was sleep in that mattress, in that room, in this house for the first time. Everything would be real. I didn't think I'd be able to handle it. However, I couldn't change the situation. I might as well just suck it up and deal with it.

I grabbed a sheet from one of the boxes I re-organized earlier and changed into a pair of shorts and a loose tank top. I was not excited to be sleeping on the floor, and before I shut my eyes I hoped that the furniture (or my bed at the very least) came tomorrow.

The loud beeping of my phone woke me up the next morning. My leg was hanging off the edge of the mattress, and the sheet had fallen off throughout the night. The sun warmed my room, and hurt my eyes. I groaned. I did not want to go to school today.

Just as I was about to shut my eyes again, my father banged on my door in a rhythmic manner. "C'mon, Ken. Gotta wake up! School today!" Damn him and his pep. Slowly, I sat up and ran a few fingers through my hair. I knew I had a lot of things to do before I had to leave, but I really just did not want to get up. My dad had other plans. "If you're not in the shower in two minutes, I'm coming in there and dragging you out!" I hate morning people. But, I did what he said anyways.

Once I showered, I ran a brush through my hair and dried it. My dark hair fell into loose waves and framed my face nicely. I ran my eyeliner on my lids, applied my mascara and I was set for the day. I never found the point in caking pounds of makeup on my face. It usually just caused skin problems. Then again, I wouldn't exactly say my look was natural, either. To each her own, I guess.

As soon as I was dressed, I was out the door. My father gave me the keys to his car. Since he was leaving on a business trip tomorrow, his boss decided to give him Monday off. Wasn't that just so nice of him? Regardless, I was thankful to have a mode of transportation for the day.

The first stop I made before school was to the Starbucks I saw on my drive last night. I needed coffee. Without it, I was sure I was going to die. I ordered a venti cappuccino and bought a sandwich for lunch, as well. When I walked out the door, I was very pleasantly surprised. This town had some attractive men. Going for a morning run, it seemed, was a tall, dark haired, twenty-something man. It was then I realized Beacon Hills might not be so bad after all. There would be a slew of new guys I had yet to meet. That was where Providence had gotten boring. I was used to the male population there. Sure, every September new freshman would come to Brown, but they were just so boring and they didn't have the rugged attractiveness that this man had. There was indeed hope for this town, yet.

* * *

My first day of school was rather interesting. Well, as interesting as school could be. Outside I noticed a familiar-ish face sitting on a bench complaining to whoever was on the other line of her phone call. She was one of my new neighbors. I believe my father mentioned their name in passing, but I just couldn't for the life of me remember what it was. A guidance councilor tried to show me to my homeroom, but there would be no way that I draw that much attention to the fact that I'm new. I wasn't handicapped. I could find my way to my own classroom.

Before the first period of the day started, I went to my locker and put my things away. Peeling off my jacket, I could feel eyes on me. It was unnerving and uncomfortable, but nothing that I wasn't expecting. Knowing I would be the new celebrity for the day, I ensured that whatever it was that they were gawking at looked good. The heeled boots that I wore elongated my otherwise shorter legs slimming me down substantially. My dark wash jeans hugged every curve and my loose, black lace tank top showed off more than my mother would approve of. But mommy dear wasn't here. If they were going to look, they were going to get a show.

Unlike most girls my age, I like to think that I have confidence in myself. You are who you are, right? What would be the point in changing that? Rock what you got and all of that. At least…I would make other people think I thought that way. "Fake it 'till you make it" was a more suited motto for my tastes.

As I was about to leave for class, an arm and a smiling face blocked my way. "Hey," the boy said, raising an eyebrow as he scanned me up and down. "You're new here."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I didn't know that." I was never fond of teenage boys. They were stupid and sticky and immature. Back home in Providence, college boys took my fancy. When they were young, they just couldn't hold my interest.

"I like your attitude," his smile grew wider. "I'm Jackson. You know, there's a party this Friday if you wanted to go."

"You're too young for me," I said, shutting my locker and pushing by him.

"You don't even know how old I am." The confusion in his voice was audible, though I was sure he tried to mask it. Poor baby has probably never been rejected in his life.

"You're in high school. Too young." I just shrugged. "Go run off to your little girlfriend. I'm sure she would be much more interested in your antics." I pointed to the red head down the hall that was watching the conversation like a hawk. She did not look too happy. But I guess that was her problem, not mine.

Throughout the school day, I heard the whispers going around. Supposedly, a dead body was found in the woods last night. More specifically, _half _of a dead body. It perked my interest a bit. A raging lunatic running around town was sure to make things more interesting.

However, when I got to the house after school, those hopes and dreams were crushed.

"Ken, while I'm out of town you are not going to leave this house with the exception of school." All I could do was stifle a laugh. Like that was going to happen. "I'm serious. No one knows who killed that girl. That means they're still out there. You're not leaving."

Once again, my dad was trying to control my life. "Fine. I'll stay home. All day, everyday until you get back. It's not as if I know anyone here to hang out with, anyways. No harm, no foul." I stalked up to my room and slammed the door. Daughter of the year award should go to me.

Seeing my room, and how it's changed since this morning, lifted my mood. I had a bed and a dresser and a night table and a desk. I had furniture. Thank god. It kind of made me feel guilty for being a bitch to my dad.

What made me feel even worse happened a few hours later. I was working on a paragraph I was assigned for English when my dad knocked on my door. "What?" I asked sharply. He opened the door slightly.

He slowly peered his head through a crack in the door. There was a meek smile on his face as he opened it fully and entered the room.

"Here," he said tossing me something. Car keys. Brand new. Yeah…I definitely felt like crap.

I put a small smile on my face. "Thanks." I wanted to apologize for earlier, but I just couldn't form the words in my mouth. Hopefully the _thanks _would be enough.


End file.
